


Day & Night

by Moya_chin



Series: Countless times [3]
Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clubbing, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Romance, Slice of Life, Smoking, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Swearing, but so does jisung, daniel likes it rough, pretty plotless really, switch!nielsung it's the best nielsung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 08:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12955437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moya_chin/pseuds/Moya_chin
Summary: Daniel is a stripper and Jisung works across the street.





	Day & Night

**Author's Note:**

> As always, just wrote this for fun.
> 
> I have sinned at last. And I'm not sorry.
> 
> Either way, don't forget to shower with lots of love and support the ever superior Wanna One ship, Nielsung.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated.

It’s hot.

 _Hot_. It’s too much hot.

He feels with displeasure how the oxygen surrounding him starts lacking, his breathing raged and warm trying with despair to find cold, clean air. His heart beats inside his chest alongside the extremely loud music, attempting to escape his body and taking his lungs out in the process; suffocated, exhausted and overwhelmed.

He looks at the watch around his wrist, and it’s just barely past two in the morning.

The sour taste of cheap alcohol feels like a wave of refreshing cold water, excluding his dry throat from the hellish fire the rest of his sweating body is engulfed in, clouding his judgment and making him forget progressively faster how tight his jeans feel around him legs, hugging with much effort his thighs and restricting him from moving around freely.

Minhyun gets close to him then, with a colorful block of money in his hands, a saddening expression appearing on his attractive features. And he just can reciprocate, taking the money defeated and throwing it to fall smoothly in between his belonging.

Money is money; and _this_ is his job.

And that’s why he is silent as a lamp while he walks towards the elderly woman who _sponsored_ for his company, his throat closing; an eager smile on her red lips that achieves to make an electricity earthquake travel down his spine. He also says nothing when he feels the nails of her fingers exploring his naked back, tortuously scratching and leaving behind violet, hurtful marks on his tanned skin that would take days in disappearing. Her wet mouth collides against his neck, smearing lipstick everywhere and making a mess.

Her strong perfume is drowning him, his head spinning while his hips ride unconsciously on beat with the slow music resonating inside the claustrophobic room, his thighs at both sides of the thin and fragile legs of the promiscuous woman who puts her hands at his backside, massaging and squeezing, playing with his belt. Had he not being used to those mistreats; he doesn’t doubt a panic attack would be in shinning action by now.

The woman tells him her name; he doesn’t listen nor does he remember it, taking the half full wine bottle resting on top of a small table and forcing all of its content down his throat, hitting his empty stomach and his consciousness like a truck.

This drunk, tired and suffocated by her horrible perfume; even the most feminine woman deforms and his mind turns her to look like and attractive, manly boy.

His _client’s_ lips smash against his, then. Her mouth is greedy, tasteless, biting his tongue and licking his teeth. It’s dirty, disgusting, and simply awful; her hands pulling his blonde hair way too hard, but he lets her line up their faces how she prefers.

The hands of that woman travel franticly along his toned and naked torso, scratching and kissing everything inside her sinful reach, grabbing him from his slim waist and forcing him to seat on her wet lap; those lips against the center of his chest feel horrible either way, no matter how drunk he is, how dizzy his mind is; those impatient fingers working to take off his belt and pull down his zipper burn, hurting him more than anything else.

He despises it. Daniel hates this so fucking much.

He is not a cheap whore who’s down to commit sin and a half just for a beggarly amount of money, god dammit.

The alarm starts ringing and arrives rapidly to his ears; _time’s out._

His senses jolt awake then, stopping the woman’s hands caressing his body and suddenly standing up from her lap, stopping to smile at his _client_ politely enough while his trembling legs fight to drag him out of that hellish room and club.

“I need a minute or two.” He tells Minhyun on his way out; or at least that he tries to say in between unintelligible mumbling, smiling as wide and genuine as his clouded mind state can allow him.

He then wants to see Jisung; preferably _now_. He needs him to write on top of the horrible letters his _client_ left behind on his scarred body, just as he knows how to do.

The freezing three in the morning air finds his burning nakedness in an overwhelming contrast, his senses alert and more awake than ever, sitting on the asphalt in front of the club and listening with a pleased smile the loud music going out the place across the street.

Seongwoo recognizes him right away, waving him hello from their distance while he looks for the names of the impatient customers waiting in line inside the list on his hands.

“Rough night?” He screams from the other side of the street; a smile lighting up his handsome face and Daniel wants a shirt.

“Something like that.”

It’s just part of his job, really. There are nights in which a rich woman would waste an insane and hasty amount of money in a young and attractive stripper like him. Who, for that huge number, would just sit on her lap and move his hips on top of her at most. Nothing else, at least legally; Daniel thinks it’s a robbery, but it’s not the most thoughtful and sane people the ones who frequent these type of clubs right in the middle of the week to begin with.

He can deny them, Daniel is not forced to accept or anything like that, but those checks signed under a long list of zeros are quite hard to resist.

And today, he simply isn’t in the mood to silently endure those horny women touching him for money.

Daniel listens from a far Minhyun calling his name. _Time to go back to work_ , he guesses right away, but his young and understanding boss doesn’t do more than throw him a shirt.

“Take the rest of the night off, Daniel.” A smile plastered in his face, handing him a can of expensive beer before going back to the completely full club, and he loses sight of him in a heartbeat.

This is Minhyun’s way of saying _I’m sorry for just now_ , as he always does. And Daniel receives the message loud and clear, a smile appearing on his tired face.

Daniel laughs sonorously while he forces the shirt down his cold body, starting to feel again the tightness of the leather jeans around his legs, strangling him.

Seongwoo also smiles, watching him run across the street rapidly and letting him go inside the same club he is protecting, ignoring the sounds of annoyance going out of the rest of people still in line.

“Good luck with getting to the control room, idiot.” Daniel hears him scream in his direction on top of the thunderous music, and he only takes out his tongue, mocking.

A strong, expensive cigarette scent plagues his nose as soon as he enters; perks of a smokers club, he guesses.

The music agitates his heart; rumbling inside his ears and making his head feel dizzy again. It’s a completely different feeling from the one invading him on _his_ job; the loud, upbeat sounds being mixed live, sweaty bodies grinding against each other, big smiles on flushed faces and not letting him walk around properly; it’s just the exact opposite from the sexual environment the club across the street oozes.

Jisung doesn’t take long to spot his ridiculous blonde hair in between the ocean of people from his position on top of everyone’s head, his hands leaving momentarily the turntable while he tells the bodyguard standing out of his room to make Daniel a path to him.

“What’s up?” Jisung says, rather screams over the loud music, watching him from over of his shoulders and still majorly focused on the DJ mixer on front of him, those extravagant headphones now hanging low on his neck and handing Daniel his forgotten cigarette.

“Not much, Minhyun gave me the rest of the night free.” The eyes of the DJ burst with light as soon the words leave his mouth, shinning cutely on his face.

“Really?” He tells him, his hands still busy multitasking between the countless knobs on his mixer and the laptop he uses, effortlessly ignoring Daniel’s penetrating stare on his back and watching how his audience starts leaving under them with a smile, the bells of four in the morning shaking the now almost empty dance floor.

Its five minutes past four when Daniel takes one of his arms and pulls the other male until being able to smash those enticing lips against his own. They taste like cigarettes and energy drink, sweet on his sour tongue branded with cheap alcohol, feeling Jisung’s hands squeeze his waist.

The strawberry-flavored cigarette falls from his fingers to the floor, fast forgotten.

 _Air, air_. For the first time that night, his lungs fervently want to feel on the edge of collapse, drowning on the heat wave invading, flooding his tired body. The expert hands of the DJ go under his shirt, roaming around his chest tentatively, caressing everything and nothing, just as Jisung always does and exactly how Daniel likes it.

It’s rough but not enough, sweet but not overwhelmingly so. Just that perfect middle range that gets him all riled up.

The club suddenly feels weirdly soundless. Maybe it really isn’t, but either way the world seems to be disappearing, Daniel only being able to feel the DJ’s hands roughly pulling his hair, exposing his neck for him to be able to attack its sweet-looking skin with his lips, feathery biting him.

“ _Sh-shit_.”

And Jisung smiles against his flushed neck.

Daniel feels then warmness and blood pooling on his lower body, an overwhelming contrast with the horrible, nauseous feeling that twists his stomach when his _client’_ s hands are laid on him. His heart has gone crazy and his clothes, like never, start to feel uncomfortable. Daniel’s breathing is raged, heavy in between their open mouths, and he feels in flames.

Its fifteen minutes past four when Jisung decides he doesn’t give a fuck about his belongings, forgetting them, and Daniel gladly lets himself being dragged out of the club.

And its twenty minutes past four in the morning, watching in awe and anticipation how the DJ slides along the wall he has him impatiently caged against until arriving to the height of his belt, and without preamble starts taking it off; when Daniel wonders when his life has gotten so thrilling.

 

* * *

 

Funny enough, they didn’t meet at night.

It’s with a shining sun over their features when their paths intertwine.

“Are you around here often?”

And the DJ’s hands felt just as soft back then, inspecting his hurting wrist with expert pettings, his perfectly white coat making him look like an angel disguised as a nurse. Daniel felt their faces so close when the other male was doing the custom vital check, a cheeky smile dividing his features after noticing how his heartbeat rate started increasing inside his chest, replicating Daniel’s own blush.

“I work here, _sir_.”

It’s funny for him, now, to compare that Jisung with a bright smile lighting up his attractive face and working on a hospital, with the outstanding DJ obsessed with strawberry-flavored cigarettes who works at the club across the street.

That day, Daniel not only left the place with a well-secured bandage around his damaged hand and a medic prescription, but he also got the name and the phone number of the handsome nurse that attended him; a wide, pleased smile plastered on his still blushing face and accompanying his palpitating heart, giddy and happy.

Jisung thinks that, to this day, it’s the most unprofessional thing he has done in his short record and life as a nurse.

Daniel believes it’s a work of the capricious destiny that, like never before, his deplorable flirting skills landed himself a date.

“I only accepted because you looked cute.” No matter what the DJ says and tries to convince him about.

And it’s a couple of months later and countless encounters over his bed and under his sheets, when Jisung discovers his peculiar night-time job.

Daniel pretended to never mention a word about it; the DJ wouldn’t be the first nor last person to run away as soon as they figure it out, and he wanted to keep Jisung inside his narrow reach and visiting his bedroom for more than a couple of hot seconds; at least for longer than the rest of fleeting relationships on his extensive dating record.

He saw Jisung one night, who he still just knew as a nurse working at a hospital, at the entrance of his club with a cigarette daring to fall from his pink lips, watching him with an amused smile.

Daniel hadn’t noticed his presence right away; it was his unmistakable voice what did the trick. “So you are a stripper, huh?”

Daniel expected to see his face full of dislike, disappointment; an expression that would clarify how the DJ didn’t want to see him ever again, how he was done with him, and he felt his stomach twist inside his body just by thinking, even _imaging_ Jisung leaving. And he watched him wordlessly for eternal minutes, his eyes shinning like a thief caught in the act, and Daniel wanted to disappear, run; pretend idiocy and spit pretty-sounding, useless lies.

However, he hadn’t been able to find anything even remotely similar to what he feared so much, the nurse’s face deforming itself in a indecipherable expression, in between entertained and as if he had known about this from the very beginning, understanding. _Loving,_ perhaps, and Daniel felt on top of the world, relieved and free; laughs flooding out of his dry throat out of nowhere, because he was happy and he wasn’t able to control the hurricane of emotions invading him.

It was because all of it that Daniel didn’t doubt on trapping the other male in between the confined space of his body and a concrete wall, connecting his own lips with Jisung’s without any warning, his mouth full of that saccharin taste of compromise that he had wanted for so long. The DJ was laughing over their mixed breathings, filling the almost non-existent separation of their brushing mouths.

“Stay.” Daniel said, getting a smile from the other male, one so wide and bright that he was able to taste it against his lips.

Jisung walked back home that dawn, tired and happy, waiting for Daniel to follow him and follow he exactly did.

And when he found his back over the DJ’s soft bed, his breathing heavy and erratic and his face flushed scarlet, feeling all too much the weight of a camera just on front of his face and recording his colorful expression while Jisung positioned himself to straddle his waist, imitating tortuously perfect the dance routine he had done that night over Daniel’s arousal, not only he discovered his like for being recorded in bed, but also how he had boarded a train without a way-back ticket.

A trip he didn’t want to, nor did he plan to come back from.

 

* * *

 

“How did you figure out where I work?”

“Your face seemed familiar, so I asked one of my coworkers a couple of days ago if they had seen you around that strip club.”

“ _Work_? Aren’t you a nurse?”

“Have you heard about the dance club across the street of yours, right?”

“Yeah. It’s quite popular; I have never been there, though.”

“I work there as a DJ.”

“ _You are a DJ_?!”

It’s like that how he finds about Jisung’s night-time work, and the reason behind the wonders the other male’s hands are able to skillfully do.

 

* * *

 

Daniel hasn’t always been a stripper.

He is a professional dancer on top of all that mess.

The fact that his immeasurable passion for dancing has eventually mutated into a great-paid work in an all-women night club, it’s a detail he prefers to ignore and never mention.

It’s not that often he has _actual_ work as a serious dancer knocking at his door to being with, the offers naturally decreasing over time and alongside the spreading of rumors that don’t give him the best reputation to desire. Because the first impression always enters by the eyes and ears, and nobody would want to hire as a Modern Dance teacher a well-known young man on dark night springs.

He doesn’t reproach them, really; he can’t, letting fall another heap of bills that barely fit inside the hollow of his palm on top of his backpack, and walking to the hellish room Daniel has so many contradicting feelings about. He hates it, of that he’s more than sure, but it also manages to feed his hungry mouth and fill his wallet unlike any other part-time job; besides of financiering the dumb purchases he makes for him and Jisung to entertain themselves.

The collateral effect is feeling nauseous nails drawing red paintings on his wide back, lipstick marks plaguing his pectorals, hands traveling from his jaw to where his thighs start, touching everything along their sinful and dirty way, and having print on his senses the awful older woman’s perfume that not even gallons of cheap alcohol can force his mind to forget.

It doesn’t matter that much, honestly, as long as the DJ working at the other side of the street doesn’t give it any mind and still waits for him after work so they can go back home together.

And it’s that smile that blossoms on Jisung’s tired features, on those pink lips he fantasizes and tries to tattoo on his mind during those endless minutes with his _clients_ ; they are the only relevant details to Daniel by the end of the night.

“Aren’t you−I mean, don’t you feel jealous at all?” One afternoon he asks, walking the other to his shift at the hospital.

Jisung looks surprised by his sudden question. “Do I need to?”

“Not really. But I would believe that−you know−you wouldn’t like me being−” The DJ roamed his eyes around their surroundings before kissing his lips for half a second, silencing him.

Daniel wants it to last for a little longer, the warm of their attached mouths, but they’re in the middle of a busy street; because of that, he just starts laughing. “I’m not in age of being jealous, god dammit. I would have lost my mind by this point.”

His partner tells him, a disgusted grin appearing on his face as if just the word _jealousy_ gives him a headache. Jisung takes his hands between his then, squeezing them, their shoulders brushing from their closeness.

Daniel can see the hospital nearing.

“Besides, it’s me the one that has pleasure of watching you on my bed and maki−” And Daniel hits his shaking shoulders, horrified, pushing the DJ through the rotating door of the hospital while he laughs sonorously and waves him goodbye.

His face has turned scarlet, but the other male doesn’t have to know that.

Because Jisung still can’t understand how he manages to stay so innocent and easy to fluster when his work basically means and encompasses everything inside the “ _sex-spectrum_ ”.

The nurse isn’t any better at keeping his flying emotions under control, but he much prefers teasing Daniel about it.

 

* * *

 

Daniel is a stripper, sure, and his body oozes manliness and sexuality; that isn’t a question, but there are times where his face feels just too prone to blush, nervous laughs going out of his mouth and he pets the back of his neck in a mere act of anxiety.

He is a stripper, again, but Jisung strongly believes that Daniel is a child at heart and soul, and the majority of the time he finds himself dealing with a pulsating protective sense branding his mind, watching him with his insides filled with imaginary butterflies, moved by Daniel’s cuteness.

Well, the thoughts pop inside the DJ’s mind and that contradicting facet of his boyfriend comes to light when the stripper isn’t busy fucking his brain out against their roughen-up mattress at least.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, during those slow-paced afternoons both of them have free before their night-time jobs, he watches Jisung while he makes beats on the CDJ he has inside his own apartment.

Daniel has basically move in with the other male by this point, but that’s the melody of a different song in those moments, watching how his blue hair bounces alongside the upbeat rhythm loudly going out of his favorite headphones, his teeth catching his lower lip amidst his concentration, consumed by the music.

Jisung is _really_ fucking great at what he does; it’s not a surprise anymore for him to be begging for a couple of tracks for his choreographies, and how DJ always gives him his best efforts.

Today, however, dancing is in the last place on his priority list, now filled with images of the porcelain neck he can appreciate from his position inside the small kitchen. Jisung still has his white nursing coat against his body, and he is ignoring his penetrating stare without an apparent effort.

And he approaches him from the back, encircling the DJ with his arms, caging him; his body gaining temperature just by watching his wet, sinful looking lips up close.

He has it really damn bad.

The DJ doesn’t jump inside his trapping hold; that way he knows the other had noticed his intentions in advance. “Are you busy, _doctor_?” Daniel whispers against his now exposed ears, catching Jisung’s lobe inside his mouth and playing with his earrings; he is a man on a mission.

A bedroom related one at that.

Jisung just starts laughing, though.

“First of all, I’m just a nurse; and we are definitely _not_ having kinky roleplay sex, Kang Daniel.”

He also feels laughs bursting from his mouth, then; not really disappointed.

 

* * *

 

Jisung doesn’t take too long to find himself caged in between the surface of their bed and his stronger body.

“You are such a pervert, _patient_.”

“Do you think so, _doctor_?

Of course Daniel wins at the end, getting what he wants just like a spoiled brat; to the DJ’s dismay.

 

* * *

 

Seongwoo strongly believes they don’t look like the type of people that would be into kinky, rough sex; he just can’t wrap his mind around that fact, and thus he thinks they are lying.

But the Bouncer is an idiot, and he doesn’t know even _half_ of it; so that’s _that._

 

* * *

 

It’s not a big event for him to be seen with a cigarette in between his lips and inside the DJ control room of the club across the street by this point, his presence and the adrenaline piling inside his stomach while he sees the crown of the hundreds of heads swimming on the ocean of drunk people under them turning into a well-known feeling after the tenth time.

Being a DJ is a great talent, he thinks, a gift of some sorts; watching overwhelmed how Jisung does countless of weird things at the same time, pushing buttons, turning switches and discs; his mind busy taking care of his laptop and the full DJ mixer laid in front of him as if all of it it’s just a bane hobby, effortlessly managing to keep the strawberry-flavored cigarette dancing on his lips from falling; and on top of that huge brain work, he has the time and mind to be creating beats on the spot, his hyperactive producer’s mind shinning on its brightest splendor.

Jisung looks stunning in many shapes and forms, but like _this_ has to be one of his personal favorites; or at least to that conclusion his biased mind arrives then.

“What are you thinking so much about?” He tells him, watching Daniel from over his shoulder while he lights up another cigarette, letting the music go on his own and taking off his headphones.

However, he thinks again, with a nicotine tube adorning those bright red lips that so much blessings has brought to his life also is one of his top looks of the DJ.

Daniel pulls him by one of his arms as soon the other male is inside of his limited reach, forcing Jisung to straddle over his lap, not wasting any more seconds in colliding their anticipating lips, their tongues finding each other in the middle as always, in a choreography learned to heart.

He laughs against the other male’s lips because of the funny expression appearing on the DJ’s features.

“I’m working, if you haven’t noticed by now,” Jisung tells him before standing up and successfully escaping from his capricious hands, going back to his place behind the turntable this time.

Jisung looks great near DJ _thing-is_ , he thinks. Just as much as he does with a nurse coat hiding his lean body, or on his knees in front of him, breathing slightly, almost panting over his crotch and with a malicious smile adorning his face and curving his busy lips; and Daniel’s mouth waters from just thinking about it, reminiscing too much perfectly the fun and seemingly harmless escapades they’ve had inside this small room, sensing like a burning fire the judgmental eyes seconds away from discover them, the adrenaline closing up his throat and filling with warm blood his lower body

“Whatever you are fantasizing about; _just don’t_.” And the DJ knows him as his tastes so well.

The confined space feels too much too hot then, suffocating; lacking air and bursting with thick, unbearable tension. And Daniel chooses to drink some water and goes for a short walk, deeply breathes the clean night breeze on an effort to emancipate his excited hormones.

And he laughs at the flying kiss Jisung sends him from up there, feeling giddy and excited, his muscles shivering, trembling under his hot skin.

He would have the due time to materialize his vivid fantasies when they get back home, for sure.

 

* * *

 

It’s because of it that Seongwoo now just lets him inside the dance club without much resistance, waiting excited and maliciously to witness the big uproar them getting caught on the act would cause.

And Daniel asks Jisung later about which is _his_ favorite look from him.

“Oh, I like you naked preferably.”

He should have seen that answer coming his way, now that he thinks about it. Jisung would never answer seriously a question that funny-sounding and perfect to tease him as such.

 

* * *

 

She had looked innocent enough sitting and waiting inside that room, or at least that’s what he thought in the beginning.

Her hands are sweaty, but either way they manage to rip a considerable amount of hair from his head when she roughly pulls it for their lips to find each other, attacking his belt without much foreplay; he lets himself being trapped in between her delicate body and the wood door without much complaints, and Daniel feels committed to continue with his whole courtesy act in front of his _clients_.

Her lips feel dirty around his dick, wet and inexperienced, bobbing her head without an apparent rhythm and gagging herself in the process. Daniel just watches while tears drop and roll down her flushed cheeks, unable to feel anything spark or wake up from the promiscuous treat aside from his stomach turning and twisting inside his body. _Air_ he wants; he feels disgustingly claustrophobic out of nowhere, perhaps it’s the mouth of hers that makes him feels so suffocated.

The girl is going through some _things_ ; at least that he is able to clearly understand, getting a beer can close to his lips before destroying it inside his own hand and letting it fall to the ground close to the kneeling girl.

Again, Daniel is _not_ a fucking prostitute, even if every one of his clients seem to forget about that. And Minhyun _definitely_ is not going to like any of this at all.

While his boss calls the police, and the mother of this girl who doesn’t look older that seventeen and that paid a fortune for _this_ , way more that any client he has had in the past, Daniel pretends to drown himself in alcohol until her long and tangerine hair turns short and blue just like Jisung’s.

“I’m too sober for this.”

He still has a long way to go, Daniel thinks, forcing another can down his throat.

He tells Jisung about it a couple of days later, waiting for the DJ to beat him to hell and back; or eve worst, to break up with him; throw him away like an old toy.

The other male just starts laughing, though; and it’s a euphemism to say that Daniel is more than confused.

Jisung’s laugh is contagious. “You are not going to tell me anything, really?”

“Nah. Its way more important the fact you just had a girl giving you blowjob and you couldn’t get at least hard for her.” And Daniel should have seen it coming; the older of them taking advantage of this perfect, once in a lifetime opportunity to tease him as always.

Both laugh while Daniel takes him from the waist and throws him unceremoniously on the bed, climbing over him without thinking twice about it, their faces a breath away. He kisses him there, a tenuous brush of lips barely even able to classify it as a proper contact, so close but not enough, and an idea appears inside his mind.

With a malicious smirk Daniel stands up and takes out the ropes hiding at the back of their now shared closet, a compliant Jisung just allowing him to tie his wrists to the bed support, uncomplaining and with a cheeky smile bursting in his now busy lips.

“Because you decided to act like an idiot, I think I at least deserve a reward for my hard work.”

Daniel sees pleased as the DJ adjust himself inside the tight bind, rapidly finding the most comfortable position over the disaster of bed and watches him while he takes off his shirt tortuously, teasingly slow; because Jisung just _knows_ that they’re bound to stay like this for quite a while.

Their jobs abandon their minds then, as always.

And it’s not after an annoyed Seongwoo starts to insistently knock at Jisung’s door that they remember there are places they are supposed to be by now.

* * *

 

“This is the last time I’ll do this, Jisung.”

“Sure thing, Seongwoo.”

It wasn´t; and when the DJ had to deal with the same exact thing and save the Bouncer’s ass from getting fired, they collectively decided that it’s better for their sanity to just let it go.

 

* * *

 

 

In all honesty, Daniel likes it better when it’s _the DJ_ tying him up on their bed.

At his mercy, as useless as humanly possible as he sees Jisung bouncing on his arousal, so slow that it hurts so fucking good, holding his buckling hips and enjoying his suffering way more that he actually should. Or when Daniel is just able to _see_ how the other male thrusts his hips against his, how the DJ’s own hard-on teasingly disappears inside of him, all too conscious of that heated skin brushing his eager walls and how it avoids his prostate like a plague, panting harshly; his body flushed red and burning.

Either way, it doesn’t really matter when both cases drive him to the edge so much, never so aroused, so riled up, so restricted, and with his nerves mere seconds away from snapping and breaking the handcuffs himself, or just _beg_ for the DJ to go faster.

It’s almost too hot, too much, but seemingly _never_ quite enough.

Jisung doesn’t need to know _that_ , though. His fantasies are all Daniel needs for now.

 

* * *

 

This is the first and _last_ time he takes Jisung to his job at the strip club, Daniel decides quickly.

Not only because numerous women don’t take long to offer a good amount of money for the services of a nonchalant DJ who has never being in a club of this caliber before, as well because Minhyun is able to convince Jisung without much effort to take care of a couple of clients just for now, bribing his boyfriend with letting him keep all of the tips he manages to get that night.

And who is Jisung to _not_ accept such great sounding, temptress offer.

 _Hot, hot_. It’s too much hot suddenly, watching how a petite girl takes the DJ by his arm and drags him towards her table on the smokers zone, flirting and convincing the male to take his shirt off; Jisung is just smiling and acting as compliant as always, letting the pretty customer to investigate his upper body as she pleases, taking the piercing on his left nipple inside her mouth and slowly tugging on it just as Daniel loves to do.

Jisung is laughing, however, more amused by the desperate behavior of those women revolving around him than anything else, allowing them to touch his body wherever they want as long as he sees the money tower growing in size on top of the table. _Hot, air_ ; everything starts to lack then, his sight turning crimson as he watches how _they_ are passing their promiscuous, dirty hands through the same paths as him, numerous anxious lips investigating the sweetest and his personal favorite places of the DJ’s anatomy.

Daniel hates it, hates how it makes him feel. He watches how Jisung just takes the rough treats, his mouth busy revolving around a strawberry-flavored cigarette at least, keeping his lips out of their reach. He despises it because it doesn’t just make him feel jealous, territorial, but that image also is able to fill with warmness his lower torso and it increases the blood pressure of the more southern parts of his ever-so responsive body.

 _I’m too sober for this shit_ , Daniel thinks as the cold taste of cheap beer plagues his mouth and goes down his throat.

As soon as they get back home, Daniel traps the other male in between the door and his stronger body; mad and turned on.

He doesn’t need to say much for Jisung to read his mind, smiling up to him as he smashes their lips together forcefully, his sinful body arching to him and molding with Daniel’s as if it has been made for it.

Their crotches are trapped in the middle, brushing, feathery grinding against each other and sending electric shocks up their spines. Too much, too close, the DJ’s mouth feels too warm under his own, his tongue too sweet; it’s too much, overly so, and he feels his mind drowning on a pleasure ocean of stimulation.

Daniel’s knee forces its way through the parted legs of the other male then.

“How−how is that you don’t feel jealous at all with me doing _that_ every night? It didn’t last more than two hours and I already was ready to strangle a couple of people.” Daniel says in between the wet, open-mouthed kisses he is planting over every corner of the tasteful, porcelain neck exposed in front of him, his words making the older breathlessly laugh.

He laughs as well, forgetting why he should be mad.

“Because it’s me who you do _this_ to, the one you actually _want_ to be with; because it’s me who gets to see you like this, no one else. The only person you show yourself like this−” Jisung says, rather murmurs over his lips, rambling, his cold hands getting under his shirt and petting his back, his shoulders, his sides and all the patches of skin at the reach of his arms.

Everything feels in flames, not only his body, then. The appreciative stare of Jisung hypnotized by his abused-red lips doing wonders to his already clouded and dizzy mind. His arousal starts to pleasingly hurt, as well.

“I don’t have a reason to be jealous when I have everything they ever wanted.”

Daniel loves him. He really, _really_ does; he concludes finally.

And this day it’s the first time he confesses that, the words escaping from his throat before he is able to stop them.

“I love you.” Daniel feels his features turning scarlet, his breathing heavier than before and with his heart threating to burst out of his chest. Laughs flooding out of his mouth and momentously forgetting how much uncomfortable and tight his jeans feel, or how warm their surroundings have turned.

Jisung’s eyes shine so prettily, never so breathtaking, and Daniel is able to effortlessly distinguish the little tears pooling and swimming over his eyelashes when the DJ tells the same thing back to him, both overwhelmingly happy as their lips find each other in the middle; tired of talking when they have better things to deal with at the moment.

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning he wakes up to a persistent stingy feeling on his sides, his hips and muscles on flames and his legs sore. Daniel should have panicked, regretted the night before _perhaps_ going too far, forcing his body and the other male’s too much close to this harmful precipice.

The night before comes back to him on a rush.

It’s fun while it lasts, he thinks; thrilling and amazing. Feeling that too much too hot hands on his neck, squeezing, his arousal going in and out of Jisung’s tight confines, so fast and rough and his legs are seconds away from failing him, panting so hard his mind becomes numb, his jaw popping out of its custom place.

But maybe it’s _too_ much this time. Too rough, too lustful, too warm.

However, when his mind notices Jisung’s hair against his neck, tickling his sensitive and warm skin, and his eyes can travel down the naked back of the other male’s, full of scratching marks and bursting with every color inside the red-spectrum, but even so sleeping soundlessly by his side, pleased and with a smile on his face; he just knows there isn’t a reason to regret anything now.

“Go back to sleep; you think too loud.”

And the DJ is right, as always.

That doesn’t stop Daniel from kissing the crown of his messy blue hair before letting himself being caught by the sleeping world once again, his stomach full of imaginary butterflies, giddy, bubbly. And he is not able to reminisce another moment, any time of his life where he felt this alive, this happy; more in love than right now.

And he falls asleep again.

 

* * *

 

Daniel thinks Jisung is going to break up with him for _that_ night, after he looks himself in the mirror and sees the red marks on his hips, feels his sore back limiting his movements.

The DJ doesn’t agree, pointing at the way too visible hand marks around Daniel’s neck.

He loves him so fucking much then, it hurts. And he wonders what he did to deserve someone like Jisung putting up with him.

 

* * *

 

Ultimately, they stay together because he thinks there’s no one else in his world who could understand him as well as the DJ does. Someone who loves him and knows him so perfectly Daniel’s chest starts hyperventilating just by thinking about it, his cheeks filled with a dusty pink color.

They stay together because Daniel is obsessed with the other male’s hands and how his lips make him feel; because Jisung is as compliant and as he is greedy, he pulls his blonde hair with the precise strength and his tongue dances with his expertly, letting behind a sweet surrogate of his favorite taste inside his all too hot mouth.

They stay together because there’s nobody that can antagonize him as the smiling DJ does; who would tolerate him and turn his life more exciting than ever before.  Because they fit like two adjacent pieces of a puzzle, connect by an invisible, strong bond from the capricious destiny.

Because Jisung doesn’t give two fucks about him coming back home filled with hickeys and with his clothes impregnated with rich women’s perfume, unlike everyone he has tried to date before. Because Daniel doesn’t complain nor does he mind when Jisung stays until very late at night behind the closed door of his _DJ paradise_ , loud noises coming out of his DJ mixer; when the other male ignores him and sometimes prefers to work on his beats and compositions.

And finally, they are stuck together because Daniel loves him and he is bratty.

“I’m never letting you go; ever.” He tries to tell Jisung before he leaves for his shift at the hospital one day, unsuccessfully serious, because it’s always in occasions like these when laughs burst out of his mouth without his permission, when his raw nature of laughing at everything appropriate or not comes to light.

And Jisung just laughs along with him, understanding without much effort what he’s trying to say and more than used to Daniel being unable to say more than three words without start laughing out of seemingly nowhere.

“Good luck with that.”

The DJ says, without really feeling it. A beautiful smile it’s adorning his features before taking Daniel’s face in between his hands and crashing their lips together, both bodies falling freely on top of the soft, satin sheets of their shared bed, the shining sun going through the open curtains and filling with light the room.

Just as Daniel thinks it always should be.

 

* * *

 

Jisung is late for work, _again_.

The nurse should be throwing a fit by now, but he isn’t and he doesn’t know why.

Daniel has him a bit fucked up. Just a tiny bit.

And his boss just smiles at him; as if she _knows_ he was getting laid before getting there.

 

* * *

 

He sees hypnotized the sight of the DJ in front of him, shirtless and hiding his pretty eyes behind his arms; dry-mouthed, panting helplessly hard on their bed.

 _Warm_ ; his body feels in flames while he watches him, breathing from his wet-looking mouth, smiling brightly despise his failing lungs.

“ _Shit_.” He hears himself say, as breathless as he feels now, drunk on his lust and his voice dropping a couple of octaves. “ _You look so fucking hot_.”

And he notices his features flushing scarlet, everything suffocating at once.

The other male’s laugh besides him doesn’t take that much time in arrive to his ears. He practically is able to _hear_ the mocking smile appearing in his attractive face before saying:

“We could make some good money selling these off, you know? Going by the porn-worthy things you sa−”

“God; don’t even _think_ about it.”

Daniel pretends to keep these incriminating homemade videos inside the security of the four walls around his room, thank you very much; he plans to be their pair of eyes the only ones with the right of seeing the DJ with a dusty pink on his cheekbones spiting bad sounding words, rough and erotic while Daniel thrust his hips against the other male’s.

“It was worth it giving a shot.” No matter how persistently the DJ teases him about it.

Nobody else needs to hear the lude sound of skin slapping against skin and the incoherent words flooding out of his vocal mouth while he feels his arousal going in and out of that delicious and much too tight heat of his boyfriend, their shameless dirty talk bouncing through the walls and loud on the video.

No one is _that_ lucky.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is not proof-read as per usual. I might come back later to fix the little details here and there, i promise.
> 
> Next week i have my Calculus final, so don't expect me to be around that much. But i will make sure to reply any comment in between my limited free time. Finals week are awful, and i just want my suffering to end as soon as possible.
> 
> Anyhow, I just hope you guys enjoy this pretty pointless one shot. I'm kinda embarrased of it, so don't freak out if i take it down eventually, just saying. Luckily, i can't write smut to save my life, and this is the most descriptive thing-y you are getting from me, so that's that.
> 
> Again, thanks to everyone that took time of their life to read this. I'm pleased with just that.
> 
> Take care, all of you.


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